


Made of Fire

by Wenzel



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blade of Marmora Keith, F/F, F/M, Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron) Whump, M/M, Post-Season 4, Spoilers!, filling in the blanks, spy games
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-01-18 01:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12378054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wenzel/pseuds/Wenzel
Summary: Keith left Voltron to help the Blade of Marmora. What happened to him while he was gone, and how did that change him? A fill-in-the-blanks story for season four.(Sheith, angst, and spies.)





	1. Chapter 1

He didn’t look back. His strides were steady, though his heart spasmed in his chest. The halls were quiet except for his boots clicking against the metal floor. The knife that rested at the small of his back weighed only a pound, but it felt like twenty. The shattered Galran sigil on its hilt meant more to him now than it ever had.

The walk went quickly. From the Castle’s sterile white-lit halls, he entered into the foreign planet’s golden sunshine. Desert dirt and rocks built the town’s outskirts. The town itself used sun-bleached white rock for its buildings. Down at the bottom of the ramp, Kolivan waited for him in full Blade regalia.

Kolivan’s mask hid where his eyes truly looked, but Keith felt their presence boring into him. “You’ve spoken to them, then?”

“Shiro will take over,” Keith said. He reached up and his mask shimmered, covering his own face. Their discussion routed through their suits’ systems. No one who wasn’t a Blade would hear them now. “How many can you spare for the mission?”

Falling in beside Kolivan as the man walked away from the Castle came easy. He didn’t know what to think of that, other than that it was for the best. Kolivan was the leader for the mission, after all, and there was a lot to admire in how people hurried out of the way. They may have recognized the armour each of them wore or the silhouette Kolivan cut that screamed _Galra_ , but it was the way that the Blade walked--that Keith had learned to imitate--that cut through crowds.

“We can spare five.” Kolivan headed for the outskirts of the town, through the poorer areas. People peered at them from alleys and windows. A few children dared to point before their parents gathered them up and ushered them away. “Any more, and the disguise wears thin. Any less and you won’t be able to monitor all the stops of the supply line.”

 _Don’t lose any of them_ , Kolivan said without words. Kolivan didn’t believe in giving people spares. “You won’t be coming, then.”

“I won’t.” Their route passed a ramshackle stand filled with junkyard scrap. A tentacled alien fussed with a dismantled battery, placing it piece by piece on to the stand. There were burn marks all over their right side. Were they an economic refugee, or a retired rebel? Keith picked out a lumpy rectangle along the thigh. Not so retired, then: it looked like a personal blaster.

His eyes narrowed. “Why are we taking this route?”

“Would you rather we take another one?” Kolivan didn’t slow--didn’t even look over at Keith as they passed more and more refugees and former rebels. “Your friends will see these people behind a pane of glass. You will be living beside these kinds of people for the coming weeks, if not months. What do you notice about them?”

It was a test, then. Just a simple test. Keith didn’t sigh or slump, but he felt a bit of tension drain from him. “Most are refugees. I’m guessing the planet doesn’t let them into the wealthier areas. I didn’t see many of them before now.” His eyes darted from person to person, hoping to see more in the creases of their clothes and the scars on their bodies. “I’m seeing a few rebels. Some of them look like they’ve stopped fighting, but others are armed.” He chewed that thought over until realization struck him. “... They don’t trust Voltron to protect them.”

“Partly.” Kolivan turned them down a dirt path that led between shacks piled atop each other and the stones the shacks used as foundations. “Voltron is not the first saviour to appear to these people. The legends make things different--as does the scale of your success--but they are ready to bolt to further into space if necessary. The former rebels are more complex. We are not the only spies in this war, Keith, and some of the Empire’s spies are known to hunt down prominent rebels.”

Which of those he saw were prominent? For their work, the rebels had received little in the way of wealth, health, or prestige. But then that was the nature of the work, wasn’t it? Until recently, the planet had been controlled by the Empire. The most they could hope for was to hide in the town’s cracks and pray the Empire never found them.

And now Voltron was here, having liberated the planet. How long would that last? They’d lost the planet once before already. If the Empire ever got the planet back, they’d cull every rebel they could find and destroy the planet’s leadership. The cold that filled Keith at the thought reminded him too keenly of what he’d felt when suffocating in space.

Keith looked at Kolivan, though his features were obscured. How long had Kolivan been fighting for? The Blade thrived on secrets and mysteries. Keith knew better than to ask, but he allowed himself to wonder.

“I know the stakes,” he said. His voice came out tired, though the exhaustion came not from Kolivan but something deeper. “And I won’t fail.”

Kolivan didn’t reply. He rarely did to promises. They walked in silence between mazes of looming rock until the town was over the horizon and any who’d followed them would be lost. The Blade had set up operations in an old abandoned moisture farm, though from afar, it looked just as decrepit as it had before they arrived. Rusted equipment surrounded the farm like a castle’s walls. Bulbs where moisture was gathered had shattered years before, covering the desiccated dirt in shimmery shards. The glass pieces picked up the sun’s light at every angle, throwing them into travellers’ eyes. Keith’s mask saved him from a temporary blinding.

The farm’s windows had never contained glass. Metal shutters were built into them, sealing off the farm’s interior climate. At one point, that’d been necessary. But it’d been decades since the planet had faced drought or sandstorms. The farm was a relic of a world long gone.

Inside, though, a dozen Blades waited. The farm had once been damp and cold inside, a bit of straw the only cushioning for bare feet. A pair of Blades had scrubbed it when they first arrived, and a day later, the walls have been covered in screens, the floor polished, and furniture moved in. Computer terminals were attended to by technician operatives.

Every Blade stopped when Kolivan entered. Each raised a fist to the their hearts and froze. When Kolivan nodded at them, they returned to their work. None of the stationed Blades gave Keith side-long looks anymore. They knew who he was, and they knew his right to be there.

Around the edge of the room, the terminals whirred. Interspersed between them were scavenged chairs and couches that Blades would sleep on if needed. One Blade, their tail flopped on the ground, dozed beside another agent who quickly flipped through pages on their tablet. Their shift would start soon, and they’d replace the busy technicians in the rush to handle the information coming from hundreds of operatives.

But what mattered, more than that, was the table that took up the centre of the room. Five new agents were arrayed around a circular metal table. Each wore their uniforms with their masks up. They watched Keith as he took a seat at the table. Kolivan walked past, intent on one of the screens. He motioned at one of them and it blinked to life. A map of the supply line stretched halfway across the stone wall.

“You’ve all been brought here,” Kolivan said, “for Operation Wildfire.”


	2. Chapter 2

They were five. Keith, the lead on the mission. Reesa, the technician. Malin and Hira as the muscle. And then there was Bev. Bev’s qualification for the mission seemed to be that they were Bev. Each Blade cut a distinctive figure, even in their uniforms and masks.

Reesa was bulky, closer to Antok than Keith. He saw large ears twitch under her hood. Contrasting Reesa, Hira was svelte yet muscled, trim and ready to fight. A tail curled around Hira’s legs, the tip resting on Malin’s foot. Malin leaned back in her chair, arms crossed and claws visible, her mask down as well. Her violet fur had strange wave-like markings that ended at pointed nails.  And then there was Bev.

Bev looked… odd. Misshapen. Like someone had started with clay and a clear vision of a Galra in mind, but got confused a quarter of the way through. The one thing Keith noticed during the meeting was that Bev’s uniform…  _ rippled _ . As though something moved beneath the cloth, like tentacles or twitching gills. Keith kept his eyes away from Bev. Who knew how they’d respond to being stared at?

The mission itself was, though not simple, straightforward. Starting at the closest supply point, they would go from planet to planet, skirting checkpoints and presenting themselves as normal Galran citizens, and then infiltrate the daily lives of those in the supply line. At each supply point, one of the group would be left behind to monitor and spy.

Reesa would be the last left behind. She knew the communications systems and how to effectively piggyback off the Empire’s channels. “You’ll defer to her in all technological matters, Keith.” Kolivan directed a sharp look at Reesa. “And you will remember our tenets, Reesa. I trust you in this.”

Reesa’s gaze hadn’t moved from Keith since he’d entered. “And I trust you in your decisions, Kolivan.”

There was a barb to her tone. Keith didn’t need to hazard a guess at the problem. She didn’t care for Keith, though she was willing to go with Kolivan’s decision. It wasn’t a great start for his first leadership trial in the Blade. But then, did he really need to impress her? If he just did his job, everything would work out. Reesa would have nothing to complain about.

The Blade didn’t believe in trust fall exercises or personal introductions. They had one another’s names and respective specialities. The mission had been laid out. Keith should have preferred it to the overly familiar and boundary-crossing way Voltron did things. He knew that’s what Lance would have thought. Keith’s own personal feelings were less clear-cut-- except for the idea of becoming a leader again. It unnerved him. Was he really prepared for any of this? Kolivan had brought him into the mission with the understanding that  _ Kolivan _ would lead. 

Keith eyed Kolivan from behind his mask. What game was he playing? Had something come up, or was this deliberate? Keith had spent enough time with Kolivan to know that the man had a questionable relationship with honesty. He didn’t doubt that Kolivan had plans within plans--it was necessary in spying. Keith had accepted that he knew very little about what the Blade was doing many missions ago. What he hadn’t accepted was that he might be part of those plans within plans. Kolivan, Keith realized sourly of his old thoughts, was allowed to sabotage other people. Not Keith, though. Keith was supposed to be different--special, because he was a Paladin. Losing that title revoked any  _ privileges _ he could assume he’d had.

The only good thing about the meeting was the ensuing silence. With every agent’s mask up once again up, private conversations could be held with no one else knowing. Hira and Malin had left the building to check on the compound’s perimeter and defenses. Reesa helped the other technicians. And Bev had taken a lone cushioned seat and froze like a statue. Kolivan pulled Keith away from the meeting table and toward the wall’s map.

“There won’t be backup for this,” Kolivan said. They both stared at the map, the supply points glowing a soft Galran purple. “If you send a distress signal, your instruments will be remotely detonated.”

Keith nodded. Anything that the Empire could track back to the Blade was a risk. If it came to dying or losing the tech to the Empire, death came first. “Are we responsible for extraction, or will there be a pickup point?”

“If the plans proceeds as designed, you should do it on your own once you’ve collected the information.” Kolivan tapped the map, and it zoomed in on the supply line’s start. “We don’t know how long it is. Our analysts said anything from a few systems to half the Empire. You and your team need to be able to talk about where best to station the best choice of operative.”

Keith snuck a side-long glance at Reesa who tapped away at a terminal. He almost asked Kolivan if he was sure the team would follow any of Keith’s judgement. But the Blades of Marmora wasn’t a democracy. Just like Shiro’s choice of Keith as a successor, Kolivan’s nomination of Keith as the mission leader carried weight. The only difference was that Keith hoped he wouldn’t fuck it up as badly as he had being Black Paladin.

_ This isn’t leading friends and saving planets _ , he told himself.  _ This is spywork.  _ That made a difference. Or it should have, at least. His palms itched as sweat built on his covered brow. Kolivan had said the team would have input on who got posted and where. It wasn’t going to come down to just him.

“Supplies?” Keith asked.

Kolivan gave a sharp shake of the head. “Reesa will carry the communications equipment. Bev will have a few packs of water and food. The goal, however, is to minimize your presence. You have your blades, and most of your team will pass as Imperial Galra. Use that to your advantage.”

Keith didn’t pass, though, and he didn’t think Bev did either. Any sense of kinship about that fizzled when he thought about trying to hide the both of them in the mission. “What about me and Bev?”

“Bev can be an off-world servant. What you choose for yourself, Keith, depends on what you best think you can portray.” Kolivan stepped away from the map. “I am leaving this mission fluid for a reason. There are no perfect, let alone good, answers. If you’re expecting me to design the mission from afar, you will be deeply disappointed.”

Which, from Kolivan, was less a scolding and more of a warning. “... Understood.” What was he going to pretend to be? Did the Empire know his face? He hadn’t been one for the camera, and he’d been missing quite a bit for the public relations part of the Coalition. He stomped down any guilt about that. The reality was that he would have flubbed any questions and may have lost his temper at stupid questions. He didn’t have the personality for it. Shiro did. 

So what could he pretend to be? He took one of the tablets from a shelf, one of the general use ones that were stationed around the room. It’d taken him months to do, and he wouldn’t be shocked if Pidge knew it far better, but he understood Galran. It’d become the lingua franca with the Empire’’s dominance. Other languages still existed--Olkarian was a tangled rope of symbols--but when interplanetary diplomacy happened, most did it in Galran.

Without Pidge’s programs or the power of the Lions, he’d need to become far more fluent. He didn’t know how long the Lions’ lingering aura of quintessence would let him bypass the linguistic barriers. Shiro hadn’t struggled, but then he’d been surrounded by the Lions, even if he hadn’t been piloting one at the time. He had two days to improve his Galran and figure out what he was going to do as a disguise. 

The Empire’s equivalent of the Internet was a strange place. Called the Rift colloquially, it was a hub for every Imperial planet. Everyone who browsed had a serial number attached to their device. Everything posted could be traced back to the poster--so long as the device hadn’t been stolen. That didn’t mean that the Rift couldn’t get ribald, or that everything on it was legal. It wasn’t unusual for the Empire to conduct mass-sweeps of forums if people went too far, and there were always people cracking their devices. It was just a general rule of the Rift that, if you said it online, you should best be ready to say it to an Imperial officer too. 

For Coalition planets, the Rift had been cut off. Problematic in the short term, but every planet had an alternate underground system. For some, it came from rebels. For others, it was operated by activists who disdained guns but embraced the pen as a sword. The systems weren’t as large, and they didn’t have the same amount of information, but each planet’s form of Internet could be linked together or, at the very least, nurtured into something resembling a global system. Even Puig’s system, which was more BBS than information highway, had been upgraded and hooked into the Coalition’s web. It’d ended up dubbed the Lion Line by the press.

He relied more on the Rift for what he was after. The Blades’ devices had been thoroughly cleaned of authentic traces and implanted with false serial numbers for a middling planet far from the battlefront. It let Keith look at the Empire’s news with ease, as well as what information was public knowledge. 

No Blade was allowed to post without a squad of technicians present to keep the location hidden. Doing so without protection risked the organization’s cache of devices. Keith had been present once when an intelligence officer of the Blades had gone on to a forum frequented by Imperial officers and baited them all into a flame war. In the process, from private messages and public posts, the officer had gathered enough information for a half dozen missions. 

Keith had wondered why they didn’t do more until he realized, by the slouched shoulders and drooped tails of the technicians, how close their location had come to being discovered. Everything the Blade did was a risk. Calculated, yes, but a risk.

Those thoughts dogged him as he browsed through lists of races known to the Galra. There were thousands: while not every inch of the universe had been explored, enough had been that the lists stretched for over a thousand pages. Only some pages had pictures--scattered ones, ones that were samplings of what the pages really listed. He could spend weeks combing through the pages and still not be finished. 

He’d need to start with a single race and find those who looked similar. Humans had a bare-bones entry, largely caused by Shiro and the reappearance of the Paladins. A battered, tired Shiro stared out from the screen, looking as he had when he returned to Earth. Keith winced and averted his eyes. Shiro wouldn’t have wanted him to see the picture. He clicked away.

What did have a larger article, one admittedly full of bias, was the page on Alteans. They were described as ‘bipedal bare-skinned organic life forms’ that were, until recently, thought long gone. ‘Any Alteans should be killed on sight, as ordered by His Majesty Emperor Zarkon of Daibazaal in Order SC-45AR’ read a banner at the top of the page. 

Comforting stuff. His worry for Allura and Coran spiked, but then they’d have been in danger if they were Galra or human too. Besides, Allura had been captured once and hadn’t been killed. They’d likely make an exception for Voltron’s Alteans. There were questions for them to answer, after all.

The page on Alteans was connected to categories. The species inside those categories varied--one other bipedal bare-skinned organic life form was a reptilian race, while another were insectoid creatures. The category held less than the main list, at least. He opened another tab and plugged in a search for races similar to Alteans. He threw in some noise as filler--’common misidentification Order SC-45R’, ‘officer’, and ‘help’, just to keep up the disguise that this was a normal search, nothing to worry about; scan on by, Imperial scans of internet searches.

The Empire’s Galra were not good at differentiating one humanoid--Alteanoid--from another. There was confusion over what the differences between humans and Alteans were, and one officer kept getting humans confused with a species with three eyes.  _ The third eye is just so small _ , she wrote after a higher-ranking officer scolded her.  _ And sure, the Ferese have tentacles for hair, but it’s close enough to humans’, isn’t it? _

Maybe, he thought, he shouldn’t be too worried about what he could pass as. But some of the other officers were a little too clever. One had created a sophisticated flowchart on how to identify other species. Keith used it to identify two species he could pass as--the Koiran and the Gaela. The Gaela spoke in high flute-y voices, though, and Keith knew his limitations.

The Koiran fit best. They lived on the outskirts of the Empire, on the other side from where the Coalition operated. Their planet had a diverse ecosystem, though it was overall a bit warmer than Earth. Its gravity was far heavier, which left the rest of the universe with the impression that the off-planet Koiran were natural gymnasts. From Keith’s appearance, he would have come from one of the water kingdoms. Some floated on a vast sea, while others had been built underwater.

As a species, the Koiran were almost alarmingly human. They had bare skin, walked on two legs, had all the features of a human, and spoke like a human. It was the little details that were… off, he supposed. They had a second eyelid. Their nails grew to points. Around their hips, they had gills that opened under contact with water. Webbing stretched over their feet. Some were even known to have scales like tropical fish, and their skin tones could be anything human and more--bright reds, soft blues, even gold or silver. The strange colours of their eyes matched what Keith’s mimicked in the right light. Shiro had commented on them once, saying that they were a steely violet. Keith, thinking he was completely human, had shrugged it off: they were just a strange shade of dark blue. Now, knowing he was half Galra, his eyes probably  _ were _ purple. It’d help with the disguise’s authenticity. 

What wouldn’t was the language the Koiran used. Their vocal chords were high-pitched and able to do an almost whalesong underwater. In the air, it came out as a warbling, sing-song accent. Keith tried to imagine faking the accent and winced. He’d have to be raised off Koira, then. Likely somewhere closer to the heart of the Empire--not against the travel embargo’s line, but close. Thankfully, he spoke Galran with Kolivan’s accent. It was upper-class, almost snobby. The accent, to anyone listening in, would place Keith as having come from a family of officers who lived near the heart of the Empire.

So he’d have to be a half-breed Koiran-Galran. It’d explain where his gills had gone, at least. He closed the window and put the tablet to the side. A frenetic energy had filled him, as though it’d finally sunk in that he was going on another mission. Despite Voltron being in the thick of every action, the reality was that he was far more vulnerable as a Blade. He didn’t have a Lion to hide in. He was only as fast as his legs could carry him. His only weapon was the knife his mother had given him. Could he make something of that?

He stepped outside the building. Hours had passed, and the sun was almost below the horizon. The twilight had hints of stars in the sky. The two moons were low-hanging and heavy, still faded from the dying beams of light. 

He didn’t know the stars. Back on Earth, he’d had the sky memorized. Ursa Minor, Delphinus, Sirius--they were names he knew not just from classes or books, but from studying records of previous pilots’ adventures in space and probes that’d wandered an eternity to see the far off stars.

Now, he’d seen stars whose names he didn’t know, planets whose peoples he didn’t understand, and seen things he’d never wanted to. The universe demanded defending; it needed someone stalwart to lead the Paladins. Keith hadn’t been that person. Shiro was. So why, when he looked at the stars, did he feel regret?

Maybe because Shiro had thought Keith that person. Or maybe it was because Keith felt like he was letting go of something that he’d begun to clutch to his chest. Oh, he didn’t doubt that the others would still count him as part of Voltron. But Red had forgotten him, and Black had never truly been his. 

He wasn’t angry. It was a war. Sentimentality didn’t have a place in it. Lance piloted Red well enough to do the job, and Keith could only imagine the fallout if he tried to take Red back. Lance would be devastated, Hunk angry, Shiro disappointed, and the others confused and distressed. Even if they eventually accepted him as the Red Paladin again, he wouldn’t be worthy. The Lions were the ones who chose their Paladins. His self-pity about belonging didn’t matter.

Still, though. He’d dreamed of seeing the stars beside Shiro. For a moment, he’d become part of them; now, the stars were behind him. What was the future without a Lion or those he’d known? He didn’t think there was anything but Operation Wildfire left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update is the 6th! <3 Find me at the-wenzel.tumblr.com in the meantime!
> 
> ETA: Update time changed to the 15th! Details on tumblr.


	3. Chapter 3

They painted scales on his skin. The scales were red as fire and edged with a shimmery black. Some were sealed with a liquid plastic that itched as it dried; a few of the scales were simply glued on, the telltale signs painted over or tucked into skin folds. When Keith touched the false scales, they felt… strange. Like fleshy tissue paper or petals. 

“They’ll last?” he asked the Blade who’d affixed them.

The Blade shrugged. “Don’t touch them too much. They’ll hold under normal wear for at least a month.” Their supplies were tucked away, back into a black-lined kit. “The scales should fool any who investigate, but if they try to nick one for blood, you’d best run for it. If the mission was shorter, I might be able to rig a system for fake blood, but knowing missions of this length…” They shook their head. “It’ll break and cause a scene.”

It took effort not to touch the scales. He knew the instructions and he knew that, if the Blade had to apply the scales and paint again, nobody would be happy. But they were uncomfortable. The skin beneath the glue itched. The floppy almost-organic scales tickled. Every time he moved, he feared smearing the paint, even if he knew the sealant protected it.

Kolivan examined the Blade’s work with a clinical eye. “You’ve made him tropical.” He didn’t look at the Blade as he said it.

The Blade had the guts not to shuffle under Kolivan’s gaze. “It makes it stand out more. Most Koiran have prominent gills. I’m drawing the eye away from that.”

Not enough guts, Keith thought, to skip justifications themselves, though. “It looks close to the pictures,” Keith said. “I’m probably going to need some Galra features if I’m going to pass, though. Unless we want to sell me as only Koiran?”

Kolivan shook his head sharply. “You don’t know enough to do that. They’ll ask you about some festival or another, and you’ll flounder.” He looked at the Blade. “Teeth and claws will be the first things needed.”

The Blade’s hand rose to clasp Keith’s chin and turn his head from side to side. “Ears would be difficult with his hair. He’d need to be shaved in parts.” Their free hand reached up to trace his human ears. Claws threatened to pierce the thin skin. “And it’d be impossible to hide these without a mane.”

“No mane,” Keith said. “I’ll end up sneezing or have it constantly itching. Maybe Galran eyes?”

“Do you wear contacts often?” the Blade asked.

Keith frowned. “... Then I don’t really know what else we can do.”

The Blade glued claws to his nails, disguising the natural bluntness with makeup and plastic. His teeth were a more complex affair: shallow caps were affixed to them, creating rows of sharkish teeth. They didn’t hurt when they touched his tongue or the inside of his cheeks--the fake teeth were not that sharp--but they felt incredibly strange. Rubbery, almost. Firm, but with enough give that they wouldn’t chip and reveal his grinding molars or front teeth. 

They were a misery to eat with. The caps didn’t have the grinding force he was used to. The Galra around him ripped and tore into their food with a vicious force, and for once he understood why. Their canines were more solid, but none of them could grind bread to pieces or mash vegetables like a human could.

Keith tried not to feel like a child as he imitated Kolivan’s eating habits. Kolivan was far neater and more mannered than many of the operatives, but he still didn’t shy away from using his claws. His chew motions were hard and quick. Galra, Keith thought, swallowed less than humans did--he suspected because of how much digestible matter each species’ teeth produced. Human teeth were far more effective in turning things to meals or pastes. 

Over the days, he tried to study the Galra around him. But the only universals he found were biologically based: Galra had sophisticated grooming rituals that only a few of the Blades continued. Galra slept for short periods at a time, scattered throughout the day and night, and seemed to prefer the night for activity. When they slept, they tended to sleep near someone, even if they were standoffish while awake.

Keith tried not to make it obvious that he was watching, but Hira caught him once and Malin twice. Both only gave winks and smirks. Others weren’t so forgiving, even if they knew it was necessary for the mission. Keith felt, as Reesa bore down on him during the second day, that Kolivan should have declared Keith immune until the mission.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Keith wasn’t meant to be obvious. It was a small bit of training in preparation for spywork.  _ Watch those around you. Pick apart their actions. Figure out who they are--and become one of them. _ Keith would have been more receptive if the task didn’t feel so daunting. 

Even frantic reading about the Galras’ history didn’t help. There were Rift posts on etiquette, at least, but Keith knew he wouldn’t remember all the details. This was the kind of mission that would take someone a month to prepare for. Yet even the crunched timeline was part of Kolivan’s test.

How did Keith react to stress? Keith would argue that he reacted with a mindset that what needed to be done would be done. If that made people angry, so be it. If people thought he was heartless, or cruel or even just  _ too Galra _ , what did it matter? 

Whenever those thoughts came, he found it hard to breathe. Was it anger? Regret? And if it was either, what did he have to be angry or regretful about? He’d made a choice. He’d joined the Blade as a spy. Voltron didn’t need him to form. It didn’t need dead weight when he could be working on something else.

Shiro wouldn’t approve of those thoughts. The softer part of the man’s nature demanded understanding and care. Oh, Shiro had been through something traumatic. He had sharp edges that people got caught on. But Shiro was the leader not just for his ability to fight. He  _ believed _ in people, something Keith failed at. Keith looked at Lance piloting Red and doubted Lance’s abilities. Shiro looked at Lance piloting Red and assumed excellence.

Things had been changing when Shiro came back, but Keith didn’t delude himself the change was anywhere near Shiro’s leadership. Keith was a stopgap, an emergency measure who’d been endured by the Black Lion, and everyone knew it. Especially Keith. If it was him or Shiro piloting? He’d take Shiro every time.

But maybe, if it was a question of leading cutthroat spies, Keith  _ was _ the better choice. He could make the necessary choices. Even if it hurt.

Malin and Hira spoke to him first. They found him outside, the pair of them prowling through the scrubland like the predators they were. Their gold eyes looked like will-o’-wisps. If it had been a forest, maybe he would have felt a stab of irrational fear. But here, he waited for them in silence, preferring to watch the sun set.

“We don’t know what to make of you,” Malin said.

Hira tilted his head to the side. “You left your unit.”

“I did.” Keith crossed his arms and leaned back on his heels. A cool desert breeze whistled through the canyon’s furrows. “As a temporary measure. There was little point in standing around on the Castle while others fight.” He looked at Hira. His thin wolfish face was painted in wary curiosity. “If you think this says anything about my commitment to the mission--”

“I think it might say something about you,” Hira said, smiling. His tail curled and swished around his legs. “Your Voltron… It lives on hope and friendship. On the surface. It has to, or the civilians won’t believe.” Hira’s smile turned sharp and wicked. “Do you believe it, though? I heard you went back once for a Blade and risked your life. Would you do it again?”

Keith tried to stay relaxed. It was difficult. “The Blade had necessary information for the mission. I felt I could get us both out safely. I did.” He eyed Hira. “If you think I’ll compromise the mission because of some sense of friendship or hope, you’re wrong.”

Malin tittered. Hira looked at her and they shared a strange little smile before their gazes turned back to Keith. Despite Hira’s appearance, he acted more like a cat than a wolf. His voice, silken and secretive, was almost drowned out by the wind. “We’ll see.” Hira leaned in, his tail curling around Keith’s right calf. “Don’t disappoint,  _ Blade _ .”

Was that salt in the wound, or a casual reminder? Keith didn’t smile back. He looked away, back to the sunset. Hira and Malin slunk away, though he felt their eyes still drifting to him. The others didn’t come to him that night, though Reesa and Bev came to him in their own ways.

Bev found him as he slept upstairs. He woke when the door swung open. He didn’t move, though: he waited until the hulking shadow lumbered in. Bev closed the door behind her. She didn’t speak, though a trunk-like arm reached out to push at his leg.  _ I know you’re awake _ , she seemed to say.

He pushed himself up to stare her down. “You don’t make a habit of doing this, do you?”

“Hff,” Bev said. A laugh or a snort? He couldn’t tell. “Ngh.” She reached up and patted at her mask--no, he thought, she patted at where her ears would be.  _ Where are yours? _ she seemed to ask. Or maybe she was asking about his human ears. Which were, to a Galra, probably fairly strange.

Kolivan had spoken about Bev like she was a pack mule. But she was showing an awareness and intelligence ‘pack mule’ did a disservice to. “I have human ears. I, uh, didn’t really inherit anything from my mother.” He rubbed at his eyes, finding sleep in the corners. “... Why do you ask?”

Bev slumped a bit. The strange shapes beneath her uniform rippled in sympathy to their owner. “Krk.” She reached out with gloved hands and grabbed his. He felt, through the gloves, Galran hands. She stared at them, as though struggling to find the words to communicate her thoughts. Keith didn’t know why she couldn’t speak, but what business of his was it? “Ss.”

Keith chewed the inside of his cheek before he spoke. “Are you… are you asking why I joined the Blades?” Bev shook her head. “... Are you asking about my loyalty to the Galra?”

Bev nodded sharply. He didn’t look Galra, he didn’t sound Galra, and he’d never worked  _ for _ the Galra. He guessed it made sense. The others had asked the same, albeit for different factions. Hira and Malin cared about the Blade. Bev, poor maligned Bev, still cared about the bigger picture.

So if he respected her, and if he respected the position Kolivan had given him, he’d give an honest answer. He still hated the panic that filled him, as though Bev’s question threatened anything inside him. “I don’t know the Galra. Not like other Blades. But I--I’ve spent time  in this world. I’ve seen a lot of…  _ nasty _ Galra. But I’ve worked with good ones. Thace. Ulaz. Regris and Kolivan. And I know that, when I meet her, my mom will be one too.” 

Hed never felt so much discomfort. Bev watched him. Whether it was in kindness or dissection, he couldn’t see. Bev still held his hands, though, and her thumbs rubbed against his palms. “Mng.” It sounded final, like acceptance. She released his hands and stood. She gave him a nod and shuffled out of the room.

Reesa was less subtle or kind. She sat beside him as the others worked on the second day. Her arms were crossed in an almost universal sign of displeasure. The broadcast line of his suit fizzled and cracked, and her voice became audible. “You shouldn’t be leading this mission.”

At least she wasn’t dancing around the issue. “Care to list your reasons why?”

“Because you’re not even Galra,” Reesa said. “You’re a  _ Paladin _ , not a Blade. You have no reason to care for my people. And what experience do you have to lead this mission? You’ve pranced about with Kolivan as he held your hand through missions. Now he wants you to lead us on one of the most dangerous missions in decades.”

Keith kept his eyes focused ahead, as though he wasn’t having this conversation. Nobody needed to hear Reesa’s doubts. It’d only hurt the mission. “And you think you’d lead the mission better?”

Reesa stiffened. He had her, then. It’d been such a surface-level guess too, he thought. “I’ve spent  _ years _ bleeding for this organization,” she hissed. The righteous anger had been enflamed. She had the patience of a rabid dog, and that was coming from him of all people. “I know how this works, and I’m the most important person in the mission. Who are you, other than baggage?”

“I can fight,” Keith said. “I can plan. I know Prince Lotor as an enemy, and Kolivan trusts me. Other than that, I’m not--”  _ a jackass to people _ \-- “I’m not going to fight you.” That was something Shiro would have said. “You don’t like me leading. I can accept that. I joined the mission assuming Kolivan would lead.”

“He should have,” Reesa muttered.

Keith didn’t respond to that. It’d only worsen Reesa’s mood. “We can tolerate each other for this. You’re a professional, and I’ve worked with people who have less of a justifiable reason to hate me.” Keith almost reached up to rub at his temples. His early days with Lance had been  _ draining _ , to put it mildly. “I’m aware that I’m not an ideal leader. I’m going to be asking you for advice, and I’m going to be using that advice.”

“Good.” Reesa sat straighter. “You don’t get credit for this, Paladin. You’re admitting you don’t know how to lead. That’s a problem, and I don’t appreciate being expected to fix this for you.”

Keith wanted to walk out into the canyons around the hideout and not look back. There hadn’t been a way to win this, he guessed. “If you’re expecting me to throw myself at your feet and then walk away from this mission, you’d best stop waiting. I’m not going back to Voltron.”

“Why?” Reesa’s sneer was audible. “They get tired of you too?”

“Unprofessional,” Keith said, voice clipped. Reesa jerked back, as though burned. “That wasn’t worthy of you. That was junior high.” Reesa’s faint  _ eh? _ didn’t distract him. “Look, I left because I felt I could do more here. If that answer doesn’t please you, I don’t care. What I  _ do _ care about is us functioning as a team.”

She turned to look at him. Her mask hid the anger he knew waited in her eyes. “... Fine.  _ Fine _ . You want to play it like this, I won’t stop you. But I ever see you slip up? If you get someone killed, like Regris? Not even Kolivan’s orders will stop me from putting a knife in your back.” She stood from the couch and stalked away.

Should he tell Kolivan about the threat? He’d worked with the Blade enough to know they didn’t brook threats like that. But who would replace Reesa? Was the threat even serious? And what would the rest of the team think if he got Reesa kicked off for a toothless threat? There wasn’t any way of knowing. 

So Keith didn’t say anything about it. Maybe he should have. He didn’t know. Lance wouldn’t have kept quiet, he didn’t think. Hunk would have found a way to compromise and bond. Allura… Allura and Shiro’s presences demanded respect. And Pidge would never have let herself get stuck in a situation like this.

Was it all too much self-loathing? Probably. But there was a point to it all. He didn’t know how to navigate people like he should.  _ This is why I didn’t want to be leader _ , he thought. He didn’t have the courage to tell Kolivan that. He might not have a spot on the mission if he didn’t follow Kolivan’s lead. And where else would he go if he wasn’t working with the Blades?

“Get over yourself,” he muttered to himself. He didn’t sleep easily that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update is the 1st! Thank you all for being so patient. <3


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